Charme d'Or
by Swissmounty
Summary: A Christmas story written for Bluesybelge, set December 1971. This story is purely fictional, but inspired by a real event happening in 2014. All the important names have been changed, of course. (This story is posted as a goodbye to my faithful readers and reviewers.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"No. I said no and I meant no!"

Ed held his breath. The Chief had said "no" all right, and it sounded very decided.  
But then – Madame Dupont was just as determined not to accept it. And Madame Dupont was used to getting her will.  
She was an early-widowed, beautiful lady in her mid forties and the CEO of the famous Swiss chocolate factory "Charme d'Or", a family enterprise with a long tradition. She was also a cousin of the politician who had organized the meeting between the Schweizer Bundesrat and Ironside, where he had explained to the Swiss government the requirements for people with a handicap in the labor market. She had taken part in the extended buffet lunch after the meeting. Ed had accompanied his boss because he knew some German.

"Madam, may I remind you that we have a flight to catch?"  
Ironside's restricted tone betrayed to his friend that he was just a second away from exploding.

If they missed this flight, Commissioner Randall would blow up about the over-the-top bill of expenses, reasoned Ed.

The loudspeaker called for boarding of their flight.

"Sir, my mother-in-law is 86," said Mrs. Dupont in a suddenly very quiet voice.

This time she got directly to the Chief's heart. He could not let an old lady in trouble, could he?

And as if she had read Ed's mind she added, "Of course, your expenses will be largely covered."

The last call went by unnoticed.

Ironside turned his wheelchair around and threw his head back in his unique way. "Ed, let's go back. Madame – tell us about your problem."

"I have a van outside. Let's go to my place. There you will get the details."

It was difficult to conduct a private conversation at a crowded, noisy airport. It was understandable that she didn't want to shout. But patience wasn't quite one of Robert T. Ironside's most striking features. What in blazes did an 86-year-old have to do with crime?

The Duponts' villa was even more splendid than the Whitfields' and much older.

"Take a seat, please," Madame Dupont invited them. She ordered Bourbon for Ironside and herself and coffee for the Sergeant. A waitress clad in an authentic outfit from the 19th century served the beverages. Ed was mildly amused. Did Dupont try to impress the Chief? All this would have no effect on him. Thus, the Chief's impatient intervention didn't come as a surprise to him.

"We're not here for a party. I want the facts now!"

"All right, Mr. Ironside."

She was used to talking to important business men. Now she looked as if she were about to do exactly that.

"You know that Switzerland is not only infamous because of the banking secrecy and famous for its cuckoo clocks, but also extremely famous for its mountains, cheese and, most importantly for me personally, for its fine chocolate. We have several world-renowned _chocolatiers:_ Cailler, Suchard, Tobler, Lindt &Sprüngli, and of course ours, Charme d'Or. There is a passionate, but friendly competition between us to develop new and excellent chocolate specialties. A few years ago – for Christmas 1967, to be exact – Lindt&Sprüngli landed a coup. They started to produce the so-called 'Lindor balls'. They were an immediate success and among connoisseurs they are considered to be among the best chocolates of the world, if not the best."

Ironside had remained remarkably calm during this lecture in history. Now the patience left him for good. "And what's that got to do with our problem at hand?"

"Please, Sir, hear me out! For this year, our inventors and creative minds have developed something on a par - what am I telling you? Something superior: the _'Charme d'Or disc'_."

She pulled out a picture of her new creation.

"It's an infinitely soft-melting chocolate candy in the form of a disc to distinguish it from the 'Lindor ball', and it is the ultimate joy of chocolate."

Probably she wrote the advertising slogans for her chocolate herself, or she had learned this one by heart.

"We produced 7.5 tons of them for the Christmas trade – and the entire stock has been stolen."

Ed felt amused again. Now that was an original kind of theft for once. Real sweet. But anticipating the Chief's reaction to this he remained serious.

"Madame Dupont! You didn't keep us from flying back to the States because of a simple theft, did you?!"

For the first time Mrs. Dupont looked a tiny bit uneasy. "This is no 'simple theft', as you put it! We are talking about a value of 250,000 Swiss francs, research and development expenses not included!"

"And what about that talk of your old mother-in-law needing me?"

"It is true that she is 86! Actually she doesn't have much to do with the problem. I needed a reason to convince you to stay."

Ironside snorted. He felt bamboozled, but he could not let this on. Angrily he glanced at Ed who obviously had a hard time not to laugh.  
 _If you think that I will allow you an extended holiday in a pretty country, then you are dead wrong!_  
No words were necessary. The Sergeant got the message.

But now it was too late to catch that plane anyway, and to be honest... this unusual setting was teasing him quite a bit. There was just one thing irritating him. "Why in flaming blazes do you want _us_? You have a very capable police force in Switzerland, and lots of private detectives who know your country far better than we do."

"Because you are absolutely the best. We want to produce the best chocolate, and you are the best detective I have ever heard of. It's as simple as that. And no police. This isn't the USA. We must not introduce a new product with a scandal; it would be considered a cheap advertising stunt. We offer quality. That's something else entirely."

Ironside understood her way of thinking. Old-fashioned by American standards maybe, but not completely out of place.

"Where was that chocolate last seen?"

"In our factory."

"Who had access to it?"

"The factory workers of course, and the night watchman. But they could not have smuggled away 7.5 tons of chocolate in one night, could they?"

"Then who could?"

"That's what I want you to find out."


	2. Chapter 2

**Charme d'Or**

 **Chapter 2**

Ironside and Ed studied maps, plans of the factory, work schedules, lists of employees, recipes of chocolate, lists of products of _Charme d'Or_ and their competitors.

"Ed, I want you to monitor the factory all night."

So much about a holiday in a beautiful country, thought the Sergeant.

* * *

While Ed went out to the factory Ironside stayed up.

"So you are convinced that none of the other _chocolatiers_ would steal your creation?" he asked Mrs. Dupont.

"Yes – no. I mean, no, they would not, and yes, I am convinced. It is a question of honor among us."

"Who could be interested in this kind of delicacy?"

She shook her head. "That's what I have been thinking about since I first learned of the theft."

"Who could sell your product? Let's assume it is sold in Switzerland to begin with. If your treasure was transported abroad, then we don't have a chance to get it back, I'm afraid."

"Any private _chocolatier_ or confectioner could sell it, or maybe an exclusive restaurant."

"I need advertising brochures and prospectus of as many _chocolatiers_ , restaurants, hotels and holiday destinations as possible." Maybe they would create the right ideas.

Meanwhile it had become rather late. Yet Madame Dupont seemed to have her connections. She sent her servants out and soon Ironside was snowed under with all sorts of advertising papers. He spent hours studying them.

* * *

Ed Brown was freezing standing on the factory ground. A thick layer of snow covered the landscape, and on the ground it was compacted and icy. It was still snowing. Ed found the penetrating smell of chocolate in the air sickening. He had questioned Bernhard Abderhalden, the night watchman, an elderly man who seemed to take his duty very seriously. He could not remember anything peculiar during the night of the theft.

Towards midnight a truck approached, a MAN F8. The driver was almost as old as Abderhalden, and, something rather rare in this country, he had forty pounds too much on his hips. Abderhalden presented him as Hannes Brunner.

Ed was glad that the German words came a little easier to mind now that he had more practice. "Were you here last night as well, Herr Brunner?" he asked him.

The man hesitated a fraction of a second before he answered in the affirmative. Now Ed knew that the people of Berne were known to be slow. Jokes about their speed – or lack thereof – were popular all over their country. Was this just a slow 'Berner' or was there something else?

He needed a longer answer to be sure. "Do you have your own transport company, Herr Brunner?" he asked. He wasn't really interested in the answer but in the dialect of the man.

"I wish this baby was mine!" Affectionately Brunner patted the side of the truck. "No, I'm only an employed driver. Without my wife working in the factory we could not make a living."

This might be interesting: in spite of the banks achieving record profits in Switzerland* many people had to work very hard for a living. But what was more important right now: Hannes Brunner was not from Berne. Ed had learned to distinguish the most important Swiss dialects to some extent. Even when people spoke what they called 'high German', their dialects still shone through. Brunner was originally from the North-Eastern part of Switzerland, and he had spoken much faster now. Consequently there was something peculiar about his first answer, Ed concluded. Ironside had taught him to pay attention to such details, and Ed wasn't called the Chief's model student for nothing.

"Was there anything unusual about your transport last night, Herr Brunner?"

Again the driver faltered. "I've gotta go now, excuse me, Sir. Bernhard." He waved his hand, then turned the ignition key.

Now even Abderhalden noticed that something was wrong. What about the cargo Brunner was supposed to pick up?!

"Stop, Hannes. This young man here is some kind of policeman. He helps Madame Dupont with a problem she has. I don't think that he wants to cause you any trouble, but if I were you I'd answer his questions."

Brunner sighed and switched off the ignition. He put his head in his hands.

"Herr Brunner, why don't you get out of your truck and we discuss this inside."

Ed was really cold by now, and he felt that he was onto something here. Most of these bold Swiss people were very honest and unable to hide a lie.

Brunner nodded and got out clumsily. He swayed slightly. Had he drunk?! But then Ed noticed a faint smell of acetone – even through the chocolate.

"Are you all right?" He caught the man's arm just before he bumped into the wall. "You are a diabetic, right?"

Brunner nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. It's time for a snack, I suppose." He pulled a sandwich out of his pocket and took a bite, though with a blatant lack of enthusiasm. Egg with cucumber, no butter, assumed Ed.

Brunner glanced at the slender American with something close to envy, then he pointed at the manufactory. "You have no idea how tough it is not to be allowed to eat any chocolate for someone who loves chocolate as much as I do!"

No, Ed had no idea indeed. "I don't like chocolate."

Brunner shook his head in disbelief, sighed again and started to tell his story.

"Probably I will lose my job here. Yesterday, I had to get this new product, the ' _Charme d'Or disc'._ As usual I took it to Bahnhof Berne. From the railway station the packages would be dispatched by train. The railroad employee who helped me with the packages, Mani Hinderegger, somehow lost one of the boxes; I have no idea how it could fall out of the package. It got crushed. He asked me if I wanted to have some of the chocolates. Obviously they could not be sold anymore, and it was a pity to throw them away. He said that they were for diabetics. So we ate them... well, me, mostly. They tasted great. I had heard that they produced some chocolate for diabetics now, and I was really happy with them. But then I started to feel odd, dizzy.

"Mani said something to me, but I didn't understand him well... something about being a diabetic himself, and that he had some medication on him. He gave me some – Phenformine - but it didn't help. I got even worse. Then I can't remember much; everything happened like in a haze. Finally a paramedic arrived. He gave me a shot of insulin, although I usually don't need any shots. After that, I got better. I suffer from kidney damage. Because of that I should not have taken the Phenformine, said the paramedic.

"Meanwhile, Mani had unloaded my truck. I was glad that I could go home and rest. Now, young man – that's it. I fell more or less asleep before I could fully deliver my cargo, and I have stolen a box of chocolates. That's enough to be fired."

Ed nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Herr Brunner. I don't think that you will lose your job because of the chocolate you ate." The problem wasn't one single box...

If the packages went away on different trains it was most unlikely that they were all stolen after being shipped! At any rate this Mani Hinderegger guy was most suspicious. Ed jotted Brunner's address and license plate in his notebook and wished him good luck.

The Sergeant kept up his night watch until three in the morning, but nobody came or left the factory. Therefore Ed asked Abderhalden to call him if something special would occur, and reported back to the Chief, who was still brooding over his prospectus.

* * *

'Short and sweet' Ed reported to him what he had found out.

" _Charme d'Or discs_ may be the finest chocolate in the world – but they contain a tremendous amount of sugar and fat, which should be consumed in reasonable quantities by everyone, and by diabetics with utmost restraint," replied Ironside.

"What happened to Brunner sounds like a Laktatazidose. If someone with a damaged kidney takes Phenformine this can be the result. Ergo the railway worker wanted Brunner out of his way."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Wait... Hinderegger... I've seen this name before!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

To Ed's astonishment he unerringly pulled a three-parted prospectus out of one of the huge stacks on the table. 'Schotthorn – Piz Diana: Over 200 mountain peaks in a spectacular landscape are revealed as the world's first revolving mountaintop restaurant slowly turns!'

"This is a possible customer for the _discs_. Look at the restaurant! It's got just the same shape. It would be a special treat to have a chocolate candy of the same shape as your restaurant."

Ed read on, "Up on the summit the Piz Diana, Europe's first ever revolving restaurant, will reward you with a 360° mountain panorama".

"The managing director's name is Hinderegger as well. Get me that phone book over there, will you?"

Groggily Ed stood up. After the cold outside the factory the warmth of the room made him sleepy. Nevertheless he complied.

Ironside opened the book at 'Bern', the capital and biggest town in the book. There was only one single 'Hinderegger' – Mani Hinderegger. "The name doesn't seem to be very common. This increases the chance that the two have something to do with each other. We'll travel up to that mountain tomorrow – today, that is."

Ed yawned and shook his head, trying to clear it from the cobwebs. "How do you want to get up there?"

Ironside laughed. "We are talking about _Swiss_ mountains here, my friend. There's a cable car up to the summit. Go get two hours' rest. Maybe afterwards you will be able to think straight again."

This came as a nice surprise, as the night wasn't quite over yet; Ed had halfway expected to be sent back to the factory.

* * *

Ed wasn't sure if he had slept two hours or only two minutes when Ironside's rich bass voice put an abrupt ending to his rest.

Breakfast was no big deal in middle Europe, but they knew that by experience: Just bread, butter and jam. They would never get used to lunch being the principal meal. At least the coffee was strong and excellent.

Mrs. Dupont lent them her new VW van, which wasn't particularly comfortable, but served the purpose.

The weather was still nasty, foggy and snowy. Therefore the ride over the snow-covered roads via Interlaken into the Berner Oberland was rather dangerous, and the probably lovely landscape hidden behind fog and falling snow.

On the parking space near the valley station of the aerial cableway up to the summit they left the van. There was next to no traffic.

"Chief, do you think the cableway will operate at all? Who is crazy enough to travel onto a mountain top in this weather?"

"Ed, this is a _Swiss_ timetable we are talking about. You can rely on it, same as on Swiss watches or on Swiss banks!"

The ticket to Schotthorn was awful expensive, but the modern aerial cableway took them to the top of the 2970 meter high mountain in merely 40 minutes! This wasn't for the faint-hearted. The journey might be marvelous on a sunny day, but now with fog and a strong wind it was almost scary.

On the Schotthorn Ed pulled his head between his shoulders trying to avoid the icy wind. Worried he eyed his boss, but that one didn't seem to feel the extreme cold. Fortunately, the Piz Diana, the revolving restaurant, was nearby. Right now Ed didn't care a fig about whether it was revolving or not, as long as it was heated – which it was, and more than sufficiently.

They were the first and only guests, which was hardly surprising.

They sat down right by the window to see the stunning high alpine mountain panorama with over 200 peaks glide by silently and majestic, as the prospectus promised... and they merely saw a white sky with a dark shadow in it every now and then.

A muscular man in a white jacket approached to take their orders.

"Just coffee for now", Ironside answered.

"With pleasure, Sir!" answered the man. So he spoke English – a big advantage.

A sign on his jacket said that he was the maître d'.  
"You are Mr. Hinderegger in person?"

"Yes Sir, at your service."

"How come you are serving us personally?"

"We don't call in our employees in this weather, as there are hardly any guests, particularly since it is still off-season. Things will change a lot over the holidays! I live and work here anyway. The man in the valley station of the cable car phoned me so I could welcome you."

Ironside opted for a blunt approach. "I own a big travel agency in the United States," he declared pontifically. "I'm planning for future travels to Switzerland. The 'Piz Diana' might be a stop on our journey."

Once more Ed was stunned about his boss. Ironside was a great liar!

The manager seemed to be pleased.

"It's a bit early, but I adore sweets." Ironside patted his belly meaningfully. "What could you suggest?"

"Oh, we have an excellent fruit torte and warm apple strudel with vanilla sauce. They are very popular with our guests."

"What about chocolate? Many American travelers expect chocolate in the country of Toblerone."

Hinderegger seemed to consider a possible future deal. "Sir, I think I have something very special for you. It's our innovation for Christmas, and it's not officially released yet. But I'm sure you will want to be able to offer this brand new specialty to your guests." He hurried to the counter and came back... with two _Charme d'Or discs._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ed's face remained stony, although the least he would have expected was such a quick success. This was developing into a lesson in bringing an offender to justice. He knew that now at the latest the Chief pressed the button of the dictaphone in his coat pocket to tape the conversation.

"So this is a new creation?"

"Yes Sir, and I dare say that it is among the best chocolates of the world. Try it!"

Ironside did, and he had to admit that the taste was indeed unique.

"Have you developed the recipe yourself?"

"Together with my brilliant confectioner, yes."

"What would you say if you were accused of stealing the entire production of this new chocolate candy from _Charme d'Or_?"

Shocked Hinderegger took a step back.

"How can you assert such a thing? How do you suggest I was able to steal 7.5 tons of chocolate?!"

"I never said that 7.5 tons of chocolate were stolen. You said that."

It was all on tape. But of course they could not just arrest Hinderegger; they had no police power in this country.

Hinderegger pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. Obviously the athletic young man was physically more dangerous than the travel agent in the wheelchair, smart as he obviously was. From behind he reached around Ed's throat and held the knife to it. "I warn you. This is a _Swiss_ knife I'm talking about. I may not be a _maître chocolatier_ , but I'm a master at handling a knife. I need you as my insurance policy, kid. You will come with me out of here. And if your buddy doesn't behave I will cut your throat. Is that understood? Stand up nice and slowly now, boy."

Ironside nodded slightly, and Ed complied. The knife followed his movement.

"You, old man, move out of this wheelchair, or you know what will happen to your ... son? friend? I don't care."

He was dangerous. Ironside would not risk Ed's life. He let himself slide to the ground.

"Take the wheelchair!"

While Ed pushed the empty chair slowly towards the entrance door, Hinderegger turned towards the Chief, "And you behave. I still have the boy!"

He got no answer.

Hinderegger made Ed push the wheelchair over a rock face into the deep snow. No way would the Chief get it there.

"To the cableway!"

Together they entered the cable car.

The five minutes until departure time seemed endless.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Before the door was even closed behind the two men Ironside started to make a plan.  
There was a payphone in the restaurant, but it was high on the wall – too high for him to get to it. Ironside's mind was racing. Hinderegger had mentioned that he had been notified of their arrival by phone; that way he had been able to receive them in the restaurant. Consequently he hadn't been waiting in the restaurant. From this followed that he could not have gotten a phone call to this phone. There had to be another one. At this time of the day Swiss people, who were famous for their diligence, were working. So Hinderegger had probably done that too. But where? In a top modern restaurant of this size there had to be an office somewhere.

With his strong arms Ironside pulled his body towards a second door which led to a hallway and to the toilets, the kitchen and... the manager's office, as a plate on the door announced helpfully.  
Ironside opened the door. Same as the restaurant the office was no more than four or five years old. Immediately Ironside discovered the phone on the desk of glass and steel. He knew that in Switzerland the directory assistance was 11. He dialed quickly. He asked for the number of the Kommandant of the cantonal police of Bern, Zgraggen. He had talked to him in the Bundeshaus and therefore he knew that he spoke some English.

A secretary tried to get rid of him, "You can't just speak to the Kommandant without an appointment. Mr. Zgraggen is a busy man!"

Angrily Ironside pulled the Dictaphone out of his pocket. "Listen to this, Ma'am, will you?" he barked and played the tape, '...I'm a master at handling a knife. I need you as my insurance policy, kid. You will come with me out of here. And if your buddy doesn't behave I will cut your throat...'

"Will you connect me to the Kommandant now, Ma'am?!"

"Yes Sir, of course, Sir, just a second..."

"Zgraggen speaking."

The people of Bern may have their weaknesses as everybody else, but they hadn't made an idiot their police Kommandant. Zgraggen understood immediately what Ironside wanted him to do.

* * *

Ed Brown was in a rather uncomfortable position. The cable car rolled quite a bit in the storm. Therefore he never knew if or when Hinderegger's knife would scratch his throat – or worse. He knew though that Ironside would move heaven and earth to help him. Never ever had he let him down.  
What would he do? Hinderegger might still need him to reach his car, which was most likely parked near the valley station, where they had left Mrs. Dupont's van. But what then? After that, Ed would only be a burden and a danger for him. If Hinderegger wanted to kill him he would do it then.  
Ironside would assume that by now they were in the cableway. Maybe he had even seen or heard the departure of the cabin. Ed hoped that the Chief would somehow try to stop the cable car to give him a chance to get out of Hinderegger's grip.

Therefore he was prepared when the cable car suddenly came to a stop – unlike Hinderegger, who lost his balance and started to swear in a very colorful Berner dialect, "Gopfridschtutz namal, was zum Gugger..."

Immediately Ed used his confusion to his advantage. He grabbed Hinderegger's brawny arm with the knife and pulled it away from his throat. The man was too strong for Ed's liking. Thus he swung his knee up and kicked him between his legs. Finally he was able to squirm free and turn the hand with the knife into Hinderegger's back. The knife fell out of his hand. Ed pushed the criminal towards the wall of the cable car. Both men were breathing heavily now. Like a symbol for the inverse situation the cable car went into motion... upwards.

At the mountain station they were expected by the Chief who was sitting in the snow. Reproachfully he asked, "What in blazes have you done with my wheelchair? It's flaming cold on the ground!"

Ed grinned. "It's called elementary experience, I think." He took a deep breath and Ironside sensed that he was shuddering, but not from cold. "Thank you, Chief."

Brown steered the prisoner towards the wall of the station.  
Ironside handed him over an electric cable which he had found in the restaurant.  
"Thought you would need this," he said dryly.

With the cable the Sergeant tied Hinderegger not too gently to a banister. He went back to the cable car, picked up the knife and gave it to his boss. It would help him guard the prisoner.

Right then the cable car started to move downwards – out of schedule - which meant that a second cabin started upwards down in the valley. "I suppose that's the police arriving. I would appreciate it if you could fetch my wheelchair for me."

Obediently Ed nodded. For him it was no problem to climb down, pick up the Chief's mobile base and bring it back. He helped the Chief back into it.

Ironside dusted his suit and Ed straightened his tie. Perfectly calm they expected their Swiss colleagues.

They handed over Hinderegger together with the knife, the Dictaphone, the second " _Charme d'Or disc_ " and the necessary explanations to the local police officers, who promised to forward them to Zgraggen personally.

* * *

"Chief, how do you reckon it will be possible to spare Mrs. Dupont that scandal she wanted to avoid so badly?"

"The Swiss police aren't as chatty as ours. The newspapers won't get every detail. Probably there will just be a short note about a trial of an hotelier threatening a foreign guest – you. Mrs. Dupont has enough connections to keep her business out of the headlines."

He pulled a handful of _Charme d'Or discs_ out of his pocket. "Try one."

Ed was stunned. "You _mugged_ these?"

"There was an open box on Hinderegger's desk when I called the police. Nobody will know how many _discs_ there were in it."

Ed shook his head. "You know that I hate chocolate!"

"This is _Swiss_ chocolate we are talking about, my friend!"

Ed frowned. Since his stomach was growling fiercely he accepted one and tried it. He wasn't impressed though. "Come on, they are no better, just different!"

Ironside was still chuckling when they reached Bern.

* * *

Ironside and Ed spent another night at the Duponts' villa.

In the morning, they had to pass Mrs. Dupont's office to get to the dining room.

She seemed to be at work already, for they heard her voice. Ed, who was pushing the wheelchair, stopped abruptly and signed his boss to be quiet. He didn't understand her dialect accurately, but some words struck him as odd. "Brunner... Lohn bis Ende Jahr... Kündigung..." He shook his head in disbelief. "Sir, if I understand this correctly, then Mrs. Dupont wants to fire Brunner, the truck driver!"

Ironside didn't hesitate a second. He turned towards the office door and opened it without even knocking. "Excuse my intruding," he said, and it was obvious that he wasn't sorry at all.

Quickly Mrs. Dupont ended the call with her personal manager.

Ironside went on, "Unfortunately our German isn't quite perfect..."

 _Our German_ , thought Ed. He had to hide his grin behind a coughing spell.

"We didn't understand you correctly, did we? Is it impossible that you tricked us into helping you get back over a quarter of a million worth of chocolate and then you fire a driver who isn't at fault at all?"

She seemed to hesitate a second, then she said, "Oh, that's a misunderstanding. Of course we will keep Brunner." Under Ironside's steely glare she reconsidered, "At second thought... he may even need a pay rise."

Contentedly Ironside nodded. "It's Christmas, after all, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Ironside, it's Christmas. And you may be interested to hear that my elderly mother-in-law is very happy that you brought us our _Charme d'Or discs_ back. She would love to have you here as our guests over the holidays."

Of course Ironside wanted to get home, since "crime didn't stop over Christmas," as he liked to point out every year.

After breakfast Ed packed their suitcases. "Chief, why won't you consider staying? This is a _Swiss_ woman we are talking about."

Ironside couldn't miss his friend's teasing. "They are not better, just different. I'm _not_ interested!"

On the way to the airport the snowy landscape lay in full sunlight. It looked like a fairyland. "I wouldn't mind staying a little longer," remarked Ed unnecessarily.

"Don't worry, Ed, you'll come back – and without me marrying a _chocolatière_ whose _charme_ consists mainly of money."

Ed smiled. "You know what I consider the best thing we achieved here? That Brunner kept his job."

Ironside nodded thoughtfully. "Christmas is more than chocolate and nice illumination. It's discovering that you have a heart... and more."

* * *

 _ **Author's note**_

 _I am very thankful to Lemonpig and others who helped me improve my English over the past few years, at least a little._

 _You readers and reviewers gave me a lot of joy._

 _It was nice staying with you, and I got to know some extremely nice people._

 _I will miss you._

 _Mounty._


End file.
